


Generations 16: Reflections on a Rainy June Morning

by Fier



Series: Generations [18]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reflection, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fier/pseuds/Fier
Summary: Mulder and Scully do some thinking about the progress of their relationship on a rainy June day.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Generations [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857445
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Title** : Generations 16. Reflections on a Rainy June Morning  
>  **Author** : Macspooky
> 
> Hi. I'm back after a lot of downtime due to a dysfunctional computer. Good old "Krycek" is up and running for the time being, though I am still have fantasies of buying a MacPerforma6220CD. Ah, well. Life is tough. Anyway, here is a story set right after Margaret's wedding to Skinner in my "Generations" series to fill in the gaps while Juliettt and I get our acts together to write our next installment. It's rated R for Romance and some adult content. It is a two parter, and I wrote it on September 21, 1995. All the characters still belong to CC, 1013, Fox, etc. I really don't want to violate any copyrights, but borrowing is so much fun! Still have no money guys, or I'd spend it on the Mac Computer and you could sue me for that! I hope you all enjoy!

Fox Mulder woke up slowly, reluctantly, from a deep and restful sleep. He was lying half on his side with his wife curled up in his arms. He thought drowsily that they had a wonderful queen size bed and they could have managed with a twin, so close did they tend to cling together at night. Though neither had ever spoken of it, each knew that was the only time they felt safe, however illusionary it may have been. It was only when they were curled protectively in each others arms that they truly felt secure. They had seen, had been through too much, for it to have been any other way. He became aware that it was raining heavily. The falling water made a pleasant drumming sound against the window pane. Dana had put clean sheets on the bed the day before and they felt soft and comfortable smelling of the lavender scented fabric softener she favored. All in all, at that moment life felt pleasant. She stirred in his arms and made a soft contented sound, and then he felt her deep regular breathing once again.

The night before had been wonderful. Her time of the month had finally ended. Those days were always difficult for him because he couldn't make love to her then. Sometimes he found himself resenting it, and then felt a little guilty about it. They were harder on her. Each time her period started it meant that she had once again failed to conceive the baby she so longed for, and there was nothing he could say to make it better for her. Without telling her, he had even gone to the doctor to be tested. He was fine. He didn't want her to know, because then she would worry even more that something was wrong with her. He had almost hoped the problem lay with him.

As much as he would have liked a child, if they never had one, that would have been alright with him too. As long as he had Dana, he was content. He would never tell her this, of course, at least not now. She would interpret that to mean that he didn't really want a baby, that he was only doing it for her, and that would break her heart. Yes, he felt guilty even in his mild resentment of those days when he couldn't make love to her. In the past he had had long periods of celibacy stretching over months, not just days, during which time he would lay on his couch and watch adult videos and dream of what it would be like not to be lonely, not to be always alone. When the tension grew unbearable, he would pick up a woman in a bar, have a wild one night stand, do crazy foolish things. After all, he had received his initial training from Phoebe Greene. He hadn't known the meaning of not wild. All attempts at steady relationships failed. As soon as they found out what he was really like, how obsessed he was with his work, his sister, women fled, afraid, all but one, all but Dana. Dana had never, ever left him.

When Mr. Bruckman had teased him about the way he might die, Dana had been silent, but after the man had passed away, an event she had taken rather hard, she had approached him quietly and non judgementally. He remembered. She had asked him if she could come in for a cup of coffee, and he had agreed reluctantly. His apartment, as always, had been a mess. His mind faded to that scene. She had sat at his table, with the little dog she had named Psychic and had ultimately given to her sister in her lap, stroking the animal's soft fur. Fox remembered a tinge of jealousy, wishing he could be that dog, have someone, have her, touch him like that. He had pushed those thoughts away quickly at the time.

"F......Mulder," she had begun quietly, "You and I.....we've been through a lot together."

"Yes," he replied softly. "Too much."

"I....well,.....I am a doctor......" She had seemed a little hesitant and sipped the brew.

"For which I am eternally grateful, Scully." He had looked at her remembering New Mexico and the brief hug she had given him in the elevator after his return, how she had still been shaking from her encounter with Skinner, but how she had withdrawn from him quickly, embarrassed that she had displayed weakness and fearing that she had overstepped the bounds of their professional relationship. Scully didn't like to appear human, or so it seemed sometimes.

"What Mr. Bruckner..... I like to think there is nothing we can't talk about....I mean, what you do is none of my business, Mulder......"

"True," he replied wondering where this was leading. He suspected it wasn't going to be in a direction that he liked or wanted to talk about with her. He was embarrassed that she had found out about his taste in adult videos.

"You don't.....you wouldn't try anything like that would you?"

Well, he hadn't been able to pretend that he hadn't known what she was talking about. He had lowered his head. He'd tried a lot of crazy stuff in the past. Heck, look what he had done with Kristen. He hadn't cared. He hadn't cared then if he had died. Then, Scully had come back, and suddenly it had mattered again whether or not he had AIDS, and it had been a long six months of constant secret testing before he had finally been satisfied that he hadn't committed a form of slow painful suicide.

"Fox, it's very dangerous......please, please, please don't do anything like that again.....please...I mean, if you ever have...." She knew he had. She knew he had a wild sometimes dark past, that he had done things that she would find appalling. She didn't care. He was her friend, her partner. Dana had grabbed his hand tightly across the table, and then realizing that she had called him by his first name released it and blushed. "I'm sorry, Mulder. It really is none of my business.....only I'd hate to lose you again....like that....."

She had not judged him. She had only worried about him. They had never spoken of it again. He had never again tried anything else so stupid or dangerous.

It had been raining the night he had failed to perform so dismally with Justine. The rain hadn't sounded so nice then, not like this morning. It had brought no peace or security. She had been a beautiful woman, and he had honestly liked her. He hadn't rushed things. He had wanted things to be just right this time. He had wanted things to work. He hoped that something would come of the relationship. Instead she had grown angry with him, infuriated that he couldn't do what she wanted him to do. Justine had not understood. He had done things for her that he had never bothered to do for Dana, brought her flowers, surprised her with candy.....She had left his apartment after saying some terrible things to him. Worse, he hadn't cared. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge the fact that she was not who he really wanted, but he hadn't cared when she had left either.

Dana stirred in his arms once again and Fox was torn between wanting his wife to wake up, and the pleasure he was taking in holding her sleeping form with its delicate bone structure and round comfortable curves. He kissed her head gently. Her hair, as always, smelled pretty and felt like silk against his lips. He had always loved her hair, even the first time he had met her when he had thought her so plain. He had thought, "Well, at least she has pretty hair." Dana....sweet Dana, his little twerp, who had stood in the cold pouring rain in Oregon laughing hysterically next to the empty grave of an abductee. Is that when he had started loving her, or had it been when she had come to his room like a frightened little girl, half convinced that mosquito bites were alien marks of some kind? It had been her first field assignment. He wondered how he could have been so mean to her during that case, her first case. She had learned quickly from the experience. It had been a long time, until Donny Pfaster in fact, that she had let herself appear vulnerable in front of him again, and that was only after she had been pushed beyond the limit of human endurance. Maybe he had started loving her when her father had died and he had touched her cheek, or had it been that night he had sat in the car watching, waiting for Eugene Tooms to do something, and she had slid in next to him and teased him about the way the car smelled. He had watched too long without a shower.

"Fox, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you." Words spoken reluctantly after careful consideration. What an ass he had been! "Scully, I even asked my parents to call me Mulder." He had laughed at her. He had been pushing her away. He wondered how badly that had hurt her.

After Justine had left that fateful night, he had actually fallen asleep. He had grown suddenly despondent upon waking, however. He had never told anyone, but that morning, he had put his gun to his head, not because he cared about the woman, but because he had been tired of being alone, tired of the pain, tired of the fruitless search and the grief, sick of the unanswered questions, angry with himself for having placed his partner in so much danger. It had washed over him in a horrible black tidal wave, suddenly and with such great force he had been unable to resist. The phone had rang. He nearly hadn't answered it, but in the end, he had picked it up fearing that it might be Scully, and that she might be in trouble as she had been the night Duane Berry had taken her from him, the night he hadn't been home.

"Fox, this is Margaret. I have an extra ticket to the Irish Folk Festival. Oh, please come. It would be a favor to me." He had put his gun away, the prospect of spending the day with Dana lifting the blackness at least momentarily. He wondered if somehow Margaret had known with her strange dreams, and Irish feyness.

* * *

"Marry me, Scully, and I'll show you how afraid I am of bodily fluids." Fox Mulder, ever the wise guy, always cracking a joke. That would be the day that anyone was foolish enough to marry him. He'd die as he had lived......alone. That would be the day he would ever marry. If he didn't blow his brains out one day, there was always Sam to look for. He recalled blue eyes looking at him quietly, silently for a seeming eternity as he waited for an answering barb, one that matched the spitting baby she had inflicted on him that afternoon, the little one that looked just like her.

"Okay." 

Dana had simply said. "Okay."

Sitting at her kitchen table drinking coffee.

"I love you, Fox."

"I love you, Dana."

What a release those words had been. "I love you, Dana." It had been like good sex, or like what he thought good sex was up until then, better almost, to finally say what he had been denying to himself, or trying to. Suddenly, he hadn't cared about what had happened the night before, or anything else for that matter. For a moment, he hadn't even cared about Samantha. They had walked to the door....and that kiss, that first kiss, his lips touching hers, the feel of her in his arms.....He had gone home to his dark messy apartment that night a happy man.

Again, she stirred beside him and he knew soon she would be awake. It was raining harder than ever outside....so nice to have nowhere to go, nothing to do but lay here in the comfortable bed beside the woman he loved. Yes, he knew she would wake up soon as certainly as he now knew every freckle on her small body, or just where she liked to be touched, or when she was going to melt during their lovemaking as she had the night before. He hadn't known what good sex was like until he had married her in that crazy ceremony in that hospital room and made love to her that night. He hadn't truly believed that there was a difference between the physical release, and the total joining of two deeply committed people. The first time he had made love to Dana was probably the tamest sex he had ever had. She had proved to be inexperienced, a little shy, sweet....wonderful....perfect...loving, warm. Knowing his past, she had trusted him totally in even this, the most intimate of acts, trusted that he would not hurt her, that he would respect her and care for her. He was grateful for his eidetic memory. He would never forget that night, the night he had learned what physical love really was and should be.

* * *

Briefly he wondered what it must be like to be her, to be a woman. There were so many advantages to being a man, no worries about unwanted pregnancy, no monthly cycles to concern him. He had never had endure sitting on a stakeout hour after hour suffering from cramps as he knew she had done so often, never suffered the embarrassment of having bled through your business suit during such a stake out, or having to deal with it in the forest when your crazy partner decided to go chasing after green bugs. Yet, he felt a little cheated sometimes. He would join with her briefly, leave a part of himself inside her, yet he would never know what it was like to have the woman he loved so much in him. She was right, had been right on that first night, their wedding night, when she had told him that for him it was over, but for her, well, there was a part of him remaining inside her. He would never, ever know that feeling. Sometimes he wondered what he had missed in being born a man. Dana moved, slipping out of his arms, and sat up, a little bleary eyed for a moment.

"Morning, Wildman," she smiled thinking of the night before.

"It's raining, Sweetheart," he said softly, "and I've been lying here thinking about how much I love you."

She gazed down at his face, her hair askew, his t-shirt, the one she had worn to sleep falling half off her shoulder. His lips curved up slightly as he thought of her comment the night before about how she didn't know why she bothered to buy nightgowns as quickly as her crazy Spook stripped them off her every night. Her hand reached out and touched his unshaven cheek gently. Her face lit in a beautiful smile, just like the one he had awakened to in Alaska when he had been so injured and sick, a smile that indicated joy in life, in him. He was happy. His sweet Dana was beside him on a rainy morning in June. The only sound was that of water beating against glass. Even their monster parrot was quiet, the one he often suspected was a government plant to ruin their happy marriage. He reached up and pulled her down to him. All was right with the world. He was with his beloved Dana..would be with her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to RaEnright for giving me the idea of the parrot being a government plant. Just about laughed my socks off. Thanks to Juliettt and Nancy for reading this and commenting.


	2. Chapter 2

Dana sat curled up on the sofa with a book, the sound of the heavy rain beating against her window pane. It had stormed earlier, a wild spring storm with heavy winds, thunder and lightening, water pouring from the sky. It had reminded her of the way her husband had made love to her the night before, recklessly, with total abandon. Now, however the rain was steady and calming. Next to her sat a mug of hot tea brewed just the way she liked it. Fox had bought her the book the previous week and made her the tea. She was content. There were few days like this, quiet days at home with nothing to do. He had made love to her again that morning but in a different way, a more tender way, reassuring her over and over of how much he loved her, as if she didn't know. That lovemaking had matched the day, the sound of the rain, steady. He had been in one of his tender moods. Dana slid her glasses up her nose, thinking to herself that she really did have to get around to tightening them and glanced at her husband in the comfortable recliner that had once been her favorite place to sit. Funny, Dana mused, how if there was a comfortable chair, a man would find it. When they had first gotten married, he hadn't asked. Fox had just kind of appropriated it as though it were a part of his domain and commenced to sit in it, just as her father had always done when he had come to visit. Maybe it was a male thing. He was buried in the Sunday sports section of the "Washington Post," the rest of the paper scattered around him on the floor. The carpet always seemed to be stained with newsprint near that chair these days. As usual, the end table was cluttered with leftover coffee mugs and a bowl overflowing with the husks of sunflower seeds. Where Mulder went, chaos followed. It was like some sort of natural law. She smiled. It had taken her quite awhile to get used to the clutter he always seemed to create and to look beyond it to the wonderful person he was to live with in so many other more important ways. The next carpet would be a dark color. The dustbuster had burned out, and she hadn't had time to replace it. The seeds would have to remain where they were for now.

Dana thought back to the first time she had met Fox Mulder. She hadn't wanted the assignment with the X-Files, but had been intimidated by the brass that had given it to her. She hadn't known how to refuse it, so she had dutifully made her way down to the basement office. The first thing that had nearly overwhelmed her was the clutter. Mulder had papers stacked everywhere. The walls had been covered with posters, UFO posters, Star Trek posters. She had instantly been appalled. Then he had turned and looked at her, and she had nearly gasped out loud. In his white shirt and tie, and wire rimmed glasses, he had been one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. If he hadn't been so sarcastic, hadn't made it so obvious that he neither welcomed nor wanted her presence, she might have been overwhelmed. As it was, he had done everything in his power to alienate her, and for a long time she had thought of him as a work obsessed paranoid jerk, although she had sympathized with his feelings for his missing sister. Perhaps it had been that kernel of sympathy planted on a rainy night in a motel room in Oregon that had permitted their relationship to continue at all.

He ruffled the paper and dropped it carelessly on the rug. Time to change sections. He picked up the Outlook section and started to read again after taking a sip of his coffee. She smiled and looked down at her book, but didn't read again. When had she stopped thinking of him as a jerk? Was it that time when her father had died and he had reached out so gently and touched her cheek? "I'm sorry about your father, Dana." He never called her Dana, always Scully, but during that time, he had been different, softer, more understanding. Had she started loving him during the Tooms episode when Tom Colton had been such a bastard, ridiculing Mulder, putting him down in front of others. It was then that she had found out that they were already calling her Mrs. Spooky. At first she had been angry and upset. That was not what she had wanted from a career with the FBI, but by the time Colton was finished, she had found herself being proud of the title. She had almost told Mulder about it, almost revealed herself to him shortly thereafter as she had sat in the reeking car with him on an illegal surveillance of Tooms. He hadn't slept or showered in days.

"Fox, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you."

If he had given her one word of encouragement, she probably would have continued. How his rebuff had hurt, but she had never again stepped over the bounds of their professional relationship until the day he had rescued her from Donny Pfaster, and she had broken down and cried. Things had been very different by then. She had survived her abduction and had known that it was only him, his words, the touch of his hand on that last night in the hospital that had pulled her through, given her the will to live.

She thought briefly that she might have come to love him that day on the stakeout, that day when a woman's "worst" nightmare happened to her. Dana Scully, female FBI agent in a bastion of maledom, had gotten her period early and bled through her suit. He had seen it as they had gotten out of the car to chase the perp. He had stopped her and placed his jacket over her and had quietly driven her home radioing the other team that she was ill. She had wanted to die of embarrassment as he had made her tea and brought her aspirin. It couldn't happen to a woman in her field. It was one of the reasons men gave for not wanting women in law enforcement, and it had happened to her. She had been angry and miserable.

"Mulder, what am I going to put in my report?" she had wailed.

"I'll take care of the paperwork, Scully." That from Mulder who detested paperwork...said ever so gently.

"But the perp got away and it's all because......."

"Not to worry. The other team picked him up." He had looked down at her then and ever so softly touched her chin. "No on the rag jokes with the boy's club, Scully," he had promised quietly, "It's just part of life. Don't worry about it." She had smiled at him then, at his sensitivity. Maybe it was at that moment that she had started loving him.

No, she realized, although she had "loved" him at that moment, it hadn't been until he disappeared in Alaska that she had given any real thought to wanting more with him than just being a partner, not seriously anyway. She had truly thought he was going to die that time. Dana had been very grateful for her medical training as she had tried to restart his heart there in that cold emergency room. It was as though all the years of study, of hard work, of struggle, of sleepless nights, had been for that one instant when the EKG had registered his heartbeat once again. When he had finally awakened, after days of her having sat at his bedside helplessly, a weight had been lifted from her heart, and she had enjoyed the time she had spent caring for him afterwards although she had been careful even then not to overstep the bounds she felt he had set up. When he had come to her house after the death of his father, sick and feverish, she had put him to bed. She had undressed him and covered him, wiping his warm brow. He hadn't known, would never know, that before she had taken his gun to the FBI lab to have the ballistics checked, she had laid down beside him and pressed herself against him and slept for an hour. Lying beside him had been a form of bliss, however short lived. When he had awakened the next morning and called her and told her he would never trust her, his words had cut like a knife, slashing to the bone. Dana had allowed herself to hug him briefly when he had returned from New Mexico, briefly in the elevator, but had been embarrassed at her slip. She had wanted to hold him forever.

When Mr. Bruckman had died, she had worried about Mulder, worried about what the older man had said to him in the car, hinting at how he might die. She knew Mulder had a wild past. She was aware of his tastes in videos, his interest in pornography, how he would pick up women sometimes in bars to relieve the tensions he was under. She had seen his dark side. Reluctantly, she had approached the subject of what she had hoped was Bruckman's teasing, telling herself that she was, after all, a physician, and Mulder had been her patient, and that they were good friends. She had begged him never to try anything so dangerous again. He hadn't had to confess. She knew he had. She had sat with the little dog in her lap petting it, not quite knowing what to do with her hands. How she had wanted to keep that little dog, a poor substitute for what she had really yearned for, but something to love none-the-less. Finally, he had started dating Justine. He hadn't told her, of course. They had kept a lot from each other in the past. Dana had found out only by accident when the woman had come to the office looking for him one afternoon when he had been out. Justine had been beautiful, but had reminded Dana of Phoebe. She realized that she should have known that he had found someone. He had seemed happier, less depressed, less dark. A part of her hoped that it would work out for him, but another part had been afraid. There had been something dangerous about Justine, something wild, something too like Phoebe. She had wanted to be happy for him, but she had been jealous. Dana thought she had lost him forever, a burden she could have born had she felt that Mulder had met a good woman, a person who would love him always and be faithful to him, would understand his obsessions and the dark side of his nature. But it hadn't been that way. She had feared that this woman too would hurt him.

"Marry me, Scully, and I'll show you how afraid I am of bodily fluids." Words whispered in jest in her ear on a pretty June day at Wolf Trap.

"Okay." Hazel eyes widening in shocked surprise. The stuttered repetition of what she had just said, and then that one stupid wonderful word of response, "Cool." It had sealed the bargain between them, sealed their love. Nothing, no one, else mattered. He hadn't wanted Justine; he had loved her.

When she had first said, "I love you." sitting at her kitchen table, she had expected to be rebuffed once again, told that he had been joking. Instead, he had merely said, "I love you," and the world had suddenly become a happier brighter place. Fox Mulder had led her to the depths of hell and elevated her to the prospect of heaven.

That kiss....that first kiss....had been unlike anything. She thought she had been in love with Jack, thought his touch had sent shivers down her spine. She hadn't known the meaning of the word until Fox Mulder had kissed her, touched her.

Dana looked up at him again briefly. He was up to the Metro section. The house was beginning to smell from the Marinara sauce that was cooking in the crock pot. It felt like a real home, not just an apartment. The only thing missing, the only thing that would have made it better, was a baby growing inside of her, his baby. She wondered briefly what it must be like to be a man. There were so many advantages, and yet....he could put something inside of her for a few minutes, he could leave part of himself in her, but he could never know what it was like to have a part of her in him. It was not something she would have wanted to give up. Dana finished her tea and got to her feet, going to the kitchen and fetching him another cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Shorts," he smiled looking up at her briefly. He had wanted more coffee but had been too lazy to get it. He wondered sometimes how she seemed to read his mind.

She returned to her seat on the couch and read a chapter. The rain was slowing down. How wonderful that first night with him had been, she remembered, lapsing once again into rainy day reflections. He had made love to her only once that first night. It had been a slow, gentle process. How patient he had been searching for places she liked to be touched, showing her where he liked to be caressed. How very much he must have loved her to show such forbearance, a man with his past and experience, soaking with her in a hot tub instead of rushing her into bed, whispering beautiful things to her, showering her body slowly with gentle kisses, teasing her about counting her freckles until she had laughingly begged him to stop and get on with it! When it was over and she had lain contently in his arms, she had realized how truly lucky she was to have found him, to have done this act with only him. She remembered that she had nearly burst with happiness, an emotion not to be duplicated again until she had awakened in that hospital bed with him in Massachusetts and realized that he was not going to die, and finding that he didn't want to divorce her after all, that it had all been a horrible misunderstanding.

Dana closed the book and thought for a moment about her mom and Skinner on their honeymoon in Ireland, hoping that they were happy. She uncurled her legs and got up and quietly. She walked to the chair and slipped the paper out of his hand.

"Hey," he said with indignation, but she settled herself into his lap her legs dangling over the arm of the recliner and snuggled up against him.

"Hold me, Fox," she said softly. His arms went around her. He could always read the paper. She felt so tiny next to him, vulnerable somehow.

"What's wrong, pretty girl?" he asked.

"Nothing....nothing is wrong. For the moment, everything is right. I was just remembering when....well, all those times when we couldn't hold each other....and feeling happy that now we can."

They sat in silence for a long time listening to the echo of the now diminishing rain against glass.

Suddenly there was the sound of fluttering wings, followed by the crack of a sunflower seed.

"Up and at 'er, Mulder. Up and at 'er, Mulder....".followed by Krycek's latest. "That's an order. That's an order. Open wide, Dana. That's an order. That's an order."

Fox picked up the newspaper and threw it at the bird cage.

"Oh, shut up," he said as Krycek grew suddenly quiet in the face of the paper onslaught. "Who died and left you boss?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mulder," said Dana with a gentle smile, "I think we've gotten worse orders in our time."

"Maybe, Scully, but I'm happy just the way I am right now." He tightened his hold on her a little, and she relaxed in his arms once again, delighted to sit and listen to the sound of the rain falling, content just to be with her husband on a rare quiet rainy afternoon in June.


End file.
